Sad Tales and Glad TalesS.G. Goodrich, 1828 - 185 |
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Strona 7
... hand in the intenseness of my reverie . " It was of no consequence , " I said ; " some foolish thoughts of my own . Let the water nymphs underneath make as much as they may of it , and welcome . " " O'er thoughtful , and much on the ...
... hand in the intenseness of my reverie . " It was of no consequence , " I said ; " some foolish thoughts of my own . Let the water nymphs underneath make as much as they may of it , and welcome . " " O'er thoughtful , and much on the ...
Strona 12
... hand of taste was also betrayed in the arrangement of foliage and flowers around the doors and windows . Wild blossoms were creeping in over your head as you sat at the one or stood before the other . A little garden smiled in the ...
... hand of taste was also betrayed in the arrangement of foliage and flowers around the doors and windows . Wild blossoms were creeping in over your head as you sat at the one or stood before the other . A little garden smiled in the ...
Strona 23
... hand , and Isabel was startled at his vehemence . The last words , uttered in a lower tone , caught her attention , and she kindled as she spoke , What is it you say , George ? You talk of dishonor and alternatives ; what have they to ...
... hand , and Isabel was startled at his vehemence . The last words , uttered in a lower tone , caught her attention , and she kindled as she spoke , What is it you say , George ? You talk of dishonor and alternatives ; what have they to ...
Strona 24
... hand he threw back her dark and disordered hair , I will say nothing of the injustice you have done me . This is no time for cruel words or wounded feelings . I must leave you . A return here , by our commander is spoken of as something ...
... hand he threw back her dark and disordered hair , I will say nothing of the injustice you have done me . This is no time for cruel words or wounded feelings . I must leave you . A return here , by our commander is spoken of as something ...
Strona 31
... hands to her brow , and looked for a long time under them at the still waters . At length she slowly drew from her bosom a small folded paper , and murmuring a few indistinct words , threw it forth upon the waves , as far as her feeble ...
... hands to her brow , and looked for a long time under them at the still waters . At length she slowly drew from her bosom a small folded paper , and murmuring a few indistinct words , threw it forth upon the waves , as far as her feeble ...
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appeared balloon battle beautiful believe black flag bosom bright brow caduceus Ceres children of men chirography clouds command companion constellations countenance cousin creature dark dear deep desolate desperate earth effectually empyrean enemy fair farewell fate fear feelings fellow felt floated gazed glance glittering glory gods grave hand heard heart heaven Hellespont honor hope hot press hurried Hyperborean immortal Isabel Vaughan Jove Jupiter knew land light listen looked matter melancholy ment Mico mind moon morning Murray myste never night once Palisadoes passed Peter Bell Petrarch pia mater planets Pleiades Plutus poetry President recollection Reginald republican resolved returned rose round scene seemed seen sensible silence singular smile soldier solitary spirit stars steamboat stood story stranger tell things thou thought tion unani Ursa Major Venus voice waves whole wild wind wonder words young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 3 - Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high: — I'll look no more; Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong.
Strona 109 - T. CAMPBELL. How rings each sparkling Spanish brand, There's music in its rattle, And gay as for a saraband We gird us for the battle. Follow, follow, To the glorious revelry, Where the sabres bristle, And the death-shots whistle. Of rights for which our swords outspring. Shall Angouleme bereave us ? We 've pluck'da bird of nobler wing — The eagle could not brave us.
Strona 76 - ... composure distinguished his deportment — and the serenity of his mind was depicted in the tranquillity of his countenance. The last hours of his solitude were employed in those holy offices which friendship claims of us when the sands of life are running low. There were a few words to be said — a few prayers to be uttered for those who were now dreaming of him on his path to glory. There were a few sad, sacred words to be breathed to a fond mother — to sisters that loved him — to some,...
Strona 81 - ... some stood wrapped in gloomy attention ; others, still behind, were seen eagerly gazing over the shoulders of those who had closed up before them. Every cap was off, and every eye fixed. Still beyond, the sick were seen peeping out of the halfopened door ; and women and boys stood, with arms crossed upon their bosoms, before the miserable huts from which they had just issued. There, there was no moving — no noise — no roving of the looks — all were bent upon the speaker, who stood on the...
Strona 55 - How it sped with that young horseman, and how he bore him on his way, it now remains to tell. The animal he bestrode was fleet and powerful, and went forward as though he was familiar with the path. There was light enough to bring into view the dark outline of the country he traversed, and to give him a vivid impression of its wildness and variety. Here the road wound among rocks and woods that clustered round and above him in every frowning and fantastic form which nature loves to display in her...
Strona 75 - It was this that paled his check, and dewed his brow — it was this made his heart beat till he could hear it in his solitude. If sometimes his sad glistening eye rested again on that precious gem which before had absorbed, as it seemed, his very life, the kindest and bravest heart would spare him there, if a tear was seen to drop upon it : and the thought, possibly, of sacred and devoted passion — of long and holy love, with all its blessed hopes, and all its desolate bereavements, would accompany...